


Mother Tongue

by FandomTree



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU ish, Crack, Everyone reverts to their first language, Gen, I have no idea, Language, tumblr has provided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9551465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTree/pseuds/FandomTree
Summary: A cat and mouse chase for the rebel fleet causes the Executor to drive into a bizarre energy field... Which unlocks particularly surprising hints of the crews origins.





	1. Strange Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jerseydevious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jerseydevious/gifts).



> Based this off of a tumblr ask on JerseyDevious'. http://jerseydevious.tumblr.com/post/156587407687/what-i-want-more-off-the-wall-tropey-vader-fic-a  
> It was an interesting prompt and for some reason I had the urge to write it. I don't trust myself in writing fics but hopefully it's decent... Enough. Hhhhh

Speckled with stars and objects in the deep depths of space. The view port gave a dazzling view to whomever never seen any background other than their home planet. The Executor, the flagship of Lord Vader himself, landed itself into hyperspace. Admiral Firmus Piett briskly walked past the men in uniforms and entered just in time to be met with streaks of blue and yellow as they traveled in hyper speed. 

He lightly adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves and fixed the insignia resting besides his chest as a reminder of his _new position_.That was to be Admiral. No more a general and no turning back. A tad spike of anxiety, quickly flooded with the sense of duty. 

Hand picked by the Second in Command to The Emperor. A nerve racking and startling promotion—after Vader had choked the life out of Ozzel, who was standing next to him a foot apart. If he had said that himself long ago, perhaps he would have scoffed out of doubt. It’s been quite a while since that event. Quite a while being the title he is now. He has conjured his most best in serving eye to eye with the most fearsome man he can think of. Piett pulled himself out of a heavy room of thought and scurried to his position. 

A faint and steady grow of a familiar sound of breath. Mechanical and unnatural, it marked his entrance towards the bridge. Admiral Piett swerved to turn away from the viewport to see the dark and ominous figure taking steps, edging closer to his direction. 

The ship dropped out of hyperspace. “My Lord—we have reached outer rim territory.”  
Darth Vader stepped in front of the Admiral with relative ease. He had yet to speak a word at his Admiral, as Piett too stood silently, looking towards his commander's direction.  
It hasn't been long since their final drop from hyperspace, and yet a strange aura of ineluctable events crept in his senses.  
“Status report, Admiral.”

“We have scanned the area but no signs of rebel alliance fleets—they must have left the region through hyperspace.” Piett locked his composure. The news was not of positive notation but not ever close to death. “We presume they have crossed our nearest asteroid field—too risky to f-,”

“Asteroids do not concern me, Admiral.” The low baritone voice blocked whatever Piett had in mind to utter. “Search every last trajectory. Find the fleet,” A deep emphasis to his words gave the clear theme.

“Yes my lord.” He gulped with no grimace in his mind.

“You heard the command, deploy the fleet and search out the coordinates,” The officers heard ear to his words and swiftly brushed away to their stations. A satisfactory feeling as everyone sank to work with a single command. 

Piett trotted away from the bridge and into the near control stations. Reason being is to moderate the deployment of imperial fleets, and to avoid snagging into Vader’s sights with unnecessary reason. A decent move to keep his ‘likeability’ meter at green level. 

Vader cemented his footing on the reflective floor of the front port. His reflection upon the clean, sleek glass did not fade nor diminish. The rebel fleet had been increasing attempts in sneaking away from detection, more importantly imperial detection. A frustrating task to continually track their galactic footsteps in order to crush them with your heel.  
In the current minute, that was not his full concern. It certainly isn't asteroids either, but a thick presence—near nauseating to push forth and probe the area. He nearly winced.  
Something was of course off and according to his senses, it's worth noting. No evidence to back up other than the force. Vader slid away from the view and proceeded to abruptly stop at Piett’s parameter. “Admiral.”

“Yes my Lord?” 

“Steer clear from the area. I want the Executor to be far away from our coordinates—” He stopped, causing a pregnant pause to stir the moment. The disturbance strengthened even more and rammed at his skull faster than a pouncing nexu. _An… Energy field?_

“My Lord?” Piett furrowed in question. He felt a shift of uneasiness in his gut. Vader had a sudden stop of words, and understandably he had a fitting reaction to it. 

“Our sensors detect a wide energy field in our amiss.” An officer stated. “If we stay for long, I estimate it will engulf the surrounding of the ship in—”  
The Executor rumbled like a purr, a bright yellow light flashed before disappearing without a trace. Piett gripped his temples from a sudden sharp sensation. The Executor stopped within its tracks.

Vader too had noticed the unusual pain in the head region—clenching his teeth to distribute the urge to motion his own discomfort. He had sensed it beforehand and for a while he cursed himself for delaying a couple minutes in. The presence of the energy field was foreign and like no other. It lingered with a thick layer of mystical curiosity and a warning label with plenty of premonition. 

“Lord Va-,” He paused, as he sworn his voice changed. “Sir, do you have an idea in what had just happened?” The usual polished, core accent was off, that was clear enough from one sentence. Piett’s eyes widened in disbelief. _What in the bloody hell…_

A pint of sweat started to form on his nape, hesitating to say another word. Having originated from an outer rim territory planet, he shrunk inwards mentally, thinking about the various comments he’ll soon be getting. But none came. Piett was baffled in his change of accent. He had lost it years ago after entering the starfleet of the empire and here it is, existing as if he had never in his life picked up core-world pronounciation.

Fellow imperials slowly scattered about, after the resolution of what had just happened. Every time one spoke, something new came out. Some not even basic, and others with thick accents and dialects no one had ever seen them utter from their mouths since imperial academy.

Piett heard confusing panic starting to leak out of the usual military scowls and indifferent faces. Now just pure (blind) puzzlement. 

It seems that the mysterious force had fixed them into their ‘mother tongue’. 

And then soon mental chaos infused and Vader, turns eerily silent.


	2. Unexpected Discoveries

Awkward vibes flushed the bridge with fretful, foreign cries. Piett gave an unbashful cough. Of all the variables he tried to predict in each and every day, this was not one of them. How this was even a speck possible is unknown. A single energy field.. Causing such psychological effects upon the victim?

Of this time, he had noticed his commander, Darth Vader, was not speaking a single chirp. The steady and rhythmic breaths echoed against the closed spaces. Vader had foreseen the inevitable field quite well before the ship could scan the area which further carved the omnipresence of the force. That was not the main source of his sudden overwrought feeling—which he quickly dismissed. Something much more complicated for the Sith Lord was at the edge of his train of thoughts, which spoke in quite rugged huttese and further added to his tenseness in the matter. 

The dark lord hasn't spoke in the tongue for a long time. Ever since it had not been required for him to do so—not that he willing wants to. Excluding the rare occasions of various curses, spurring mentally. 

He couldn't dare himself to speak. Not in front of his men, of the flagship. He could not allow the fact that everyone would discover that he spoke huttese like a tatooine street rat. 

The discovery would quickly turn for the worst. Personal information and inferences leaks into the holonet faster than light speed. A notable reality that Vader is deathly willing to avoid. 

Vader silently contemplates staying completely silent until the ordeal is over. It may arouse suspicion but none of his men would dare to ask why. Piett seems to stay professional throughout. With the risk of acting very bizarre in the eyes of the imperials scurrying about The Executor, he might as well accept that with the exchange of hiding his past. 

Piett glanced at the unspeaking dark lord worryingly. Is he unable to speak? If the theory was correct—that the energy field reverted everyone to their first language, and/or dialect and accent… What is Vader’s? What if he was consciously refusing to utter a word because of unknown reasons as far as Piett knows. 

The Lord of the Sith brushed past Piett’s mindful thoughts. The Admiral was a man to admire of his unbreakable integrity to the empire. An expected question Piett would have at this time, especially him being right next to Vader himself. Nothing of his out loud thoughts suggest foul play but he would rather have his Admiral keep his advancing theories to himself. 

Admiral Piett shook his head and leaned towards the men on his right. “Ahem… Is there any way to escape the energy field at this time?” 

“Negative...Sir.” The lieutenant replied, frowning at his own voice. 

“No need to be discreet in your current situation.” Piett gave a sigh—clearly sympathetic to the lieutenant. “I am in no place to judge.” He proclaimed. “Is The Executor in working order.” 

“Yes Sir. We sustained no damage.” 

“Good.” Piett nodded in hope the problem would be fixed. “The energy field. What is the recorded source?” Assuming Lord Vader will continue to stay silent, Piett went on to push upon the subject for his commander to hear. And to take charge without Vader’s own orders. 

“There’s no sign. The point is unknown—Sir.”

Piett nearly reached to rub his forehead. No sign in how they ended up in the situation which adds a variable of mystery. They had no clue. 

Perhaps the chief engineer would know of a solution to budge the super star destroyer out of the perimeter of the field and soon blast into hyperspace. He quickly stopped an officer. “Report to the chief engineer. Ask them about the status and current possibilities of solutions regarding the function of the Executor.” 

The officer replied in an alien language soon after before blinking and shutting his mouth in choking realization—walking off.  
Admiral Piett frowned in cognizance. Moving on, he attempted to pull in another officer, luckily they could certainly at least speak basic. 

As Piett attempted to control the awkward and dysfunctional situation, Vader attempted to hypothesis the cause of their situation. He recalled the the heavy ramming, like an attack on the mind. If he had his mental shields up perhaps he would have avoided all this. Having to resort to zipping his mouth shut over the fact he can only call out in huttese, just like a certain penniless boy—a slave of Watto's. A memory he wants to suppress away into the abandoned holes—uttering a common curse from instinct. Vader snapped into himself, digging his fingers into his palm—walking down the hall, leaving Piett alone with everyone else. 

Piett greaved a sigh. _Now I'm entirely on my own._ He suddenly paused. Sworn he just heard Darth Vader say something under his breath. But it was enough for his ears to pick up. _Did Lord Vader—foul mouth in… Huttese?_ He sputtered.

The dark lord gracefully strolled his way down corners until a familiar door was met at his toes. Hastily typing in the clearance into the blocky keyboard, the door flashed open, allowing Vader to step inside. 

The meditation chamber. The round shaped machinery in the middle of it all opened up. One could say like the fashion of an egg being cracked. Something came over him, thinking there was nothing for him to do around his men. A form of strong avoidance?—Anakin Skywalker was once a dweller of tatooine, a determined and raggedy child born into slavery. Vader edged closer to the meditation chamber before stopping. He was suddenly confused—in his entire motive for walking off. 

In a certain point of view, it looked like running away. 

He grumbled at what it suggests. Vader continued to paced back and forth like an agitated animal. He refused to do nothing at this time, despite that he's doing ‘nothing’ right now. 

The energy field could possibly be force related. Vader felt the links click together. If that was the case, then as an attempt, he could be the missing link to getting the Executor and the crew back in working order. In one dashing flow, he plopped into the meditation chambers chair. 

_“The force will provide.”_ He draped his eyes closed and focused onto the thick presence of the energy field. Like two invisible hands, they pushed upon the barrier of the energy field, north of the front of his flagship. 

He plowed his way through the blockage—a mental battle between a wall and himself. Vader continued the efforts, even straining ever so slightly. Increasing in difficulty as seconds ticked on. 

Piett fidgeted in his stationary place upon the bridge. He wanted the ship moving as much as everyone else. If every effort fails then they'll have to resort to escape pods. He was determined not to loose Lord Vader's ship, not this day. 

Piett had first thought of calling back up but they too will be pulled into the energy field. He looked around to see that he was practically the only person staying in composure. 

“Outer Rim?” A lieutenant raised a brow at his work partner.  
An uncomfortable pause began before the other man applied a response. 

“Crap.. Vader's here’right.” An officer yards away from his commented. 

“Of course.” His colleague said by fact. 

“What’de hell is he doin’ then?” 

“Shush!” The man gritted his teeth. 

Piett overheard the short talk in the quiet and embarrassment triggering atmosphere—slouching his shoulders from unamusement. But the man's overly heavy accent had made the sentence much more humorous than it should be. 

By now he heard everything. Even learning somethings about the men he worked with. But of all things what struck him the most was what he learned of Vader. Huttese? Admittedly he assumed something… More fit in the dark lords interests. Him uttering—unexpected language in a figure—preserved as beyond dignified. Piett squinted at the thought of Darth Vader slurring out huttese belonging to a little street rat. If huttese was the first, then of what origins is Vader? 

Vader sat still in the dark room. White lights stirred above his head, along with unmoving dangling claws of mechanical droid assistance. Too focused to bother any other mindful thought.

Pushing against the wall of the energy field. Until it surrendered under his will. 

“Sir!” 

Piett jumped from the loud call. “What is it.” He crossed his arms back—straightening his posture. 

“The energy field. It prolapsed,” 

Piett widened in the surprising news. A gust of relief flooded him in welcome arms. “Prepare to move the Executor out of the perimeter.” He ordered. “Jump into hyperspace to the nearest imperial base.” 

As the Executor crept out of the field which was held back by the credit to a certain Sith Lord, the view port once again displayed streaks of stars.


	3. The Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the shenanigans

A flash of an eye; waking up from an abrupt period of pause. Sensing that a hefty amount of time had passed since his sudden unconsciousness, Vader lifted up his slouched position. All unsure whether to feel undignified at his own situation.  
If— he reserved more energy on keeping himself conscious would it have made a difference? Whatever that may be, it no longer mattered to him. He was operational and nothing was in disarray.

The Sith rolled his red tint vision around in blank motivation, until it hits him.

The energy field…

He couldn't sense its presence that had once filled up the ship entirely—annoyingly dense and heavy. So his efforts really didn't go in vain after all.. The problem was cured.  
He had not damaged his own image.  
And The Executor sat quietly afloat.

  
“It is done.” He commented to himself; acknowledging his now fixed speech. Despite the honest success, the lingering experience didn't sit well. He would rather not feel that ever again.  
The trapping of his ‘tongue’— doubled as a trap to the pitiful past. If there was some sort of… underlying lesson-of-the-force from it all, he didn’t catch it one bit. And nor will he think too much on such proposal. He refuses to stress over the past few hours or minutes.

Vader sat upright, unmoving, before opening the meditation chambers prolapsing hands.

Swiftly, he stepped off from the platform and then paused again in front of the blast door. A second later, he walked off.

Polished boots clanked on the reflective floors of the halls. A steady and mechanical breath made his stature known to all. Vader stalking his way up the bridge as now-alert officers straighten themselves up from his sudden appearance.

 

Officers with officers.. Troopers with troopers... Continued to share glances at each other, a mix of confusion and aftermath disbelief. The thousands who experienced the turn of events grew new founding conclusions across one another, exclaiming theories and blunt remarks to others. Internal commotion was great but they all knew it was best to keep it all at a low.  
Perhaps it's better to pass it all as a dream or to just forget. Or is it better to stay curious.

 

Piett clasped his forehead as he stared down at the glowing hum of the datapad. After all the hubris while docking in the planet's atmosphere, the Admiral retreated into his sullen office. Immediately, he plan to send a direct report of their… quizzical findings. But in all the time he had, he delayed. Piett sighed deeply, unsure of how to properly explain everything without sounding like a joke… Or a prank for gods sake.

He assured himself— nothing was make up in his head. It all happened and it’s all fact. He continued writing in the report carefully.

After spending the last few minutes preparing the report, he was done. He planned not to send it just yet. Piett considered a variable— and that variable is Darth Vader.

Until further notice from Lord Vader, he will keep the report away. He had a keen feeling that perhaps the sith would want to monitor what comes in and what goes out after the bizarre language situation. Especially after what he heard coming from the Sith Lords mouth, best to play it safe.

Piett pressed the button to open his doors. The doors slid away— revealing Vader on the other side.

Oh stars -he jumped, lightly shaking as he cleared his throat. “Lo- Lord Vader...” Piett said. “What may I do for you.” He back spaced away from the cyborg, clearing his way in the office.

“Admiral.”  
“Yes my lord?” He felt more nerve racked than normal. Trying his best to not show his immediate surprise in the sudden intrusion of his quarters. He waited silently until the sith spoke. Vader knew about the pending report. It was a wise thing to hold back as the admiral understood so much yet so little.

The sith then proceeded speak, as if directing his instructions. “Our abrupt arrival back was of a ship malfunction caused by an aftershock from passing through an unknown energy field. The energy field was presumed shattered and we are to resume chase against the rebel fleet.”

“I see.” Piett nodded.  
Vader turned his back towards him, stepping out of the room in gliding steps. Before he left, he turned his helmet sharply back to Piett, his mask lingering in the admiral’s vision.

“There are to be nothing else spoken of regarding the incident.” He warned, voice ominously deep. “It was merely a minor.. Inconvenience.” And as a split second passed, he left without any other note.

  
Piett felt the air grow cold as the blast door shut himself inside. Stopping to take a breath, he scrapped his draft, filing in a new report. He tried his best not to think back at it. Whatever happened during their mission was to be forgotten about, especially for him.  
For now, it's best to move along and focus on duty. The same will go towards everyone else; but soon it will prove to be more difficult than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for anyone who wanted another chapter! I felt that this wasn't good enough of an update but i tried my best in writing up a last chapter for you guys. It's a bit short.
> 
> I have to say, this fanfic had the most support comparing to anything else I've written ((and soon deleted)). It may not be very many but to me its a lot ^^


End file.
